


Fever Words

by nightmarefever



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Gender-neutral Reader, Orgasm Denial, Other, Reader-Insert, Vague Dubcon ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:57:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4674344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmarefever/pseuds/nightmarefever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too many people are dead. Too many people are worried, scared, untrusting, but not him. He trusts you with an unusual intensity….and you may as well use it to your advantage. After all, this is his fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever Words

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Chapter 3 and diverts from canon probably a lot?? People suggested a lot of weird things to do to Komaeda so I. tried to just squeeze those in there (rip me) This whole fic is sort've like PWPs shoved together to attempt a coherent plotline so please keep that in mind. 
> 
> Otherwise: you’re Ultimate Memory and the mutual killings are about to get a bit more interesting.

His hair’s like cotton candy in your palm, shades of white and cherry that curl around your fingers in stiff bundles. It’s soft yet stringy. Sometimes, when you pull your hand away, clumps come with them. You just shake them off. **  
**

Breathing against your skin is strangely calmed. Hot air that touches your legs. Head in your lap and Komaeda’s eyes are closed. That much you can see when you look down at him.

He’s at peace, stilled. Quiet and gentle.

Four people are dead and it’s because of him. Four real people you almost knew, that left a bad taste in your mouth as if you did know them even more. It’s a cold reality you keep reminding yourself of as he grunts, your fingers catching knots in his hair. It must hurt.

You halfheartedly hope it does.

If only you’d been here before… Sitting in his cottage treating him like a fresh kennel pup, giving him gentle words and less than gentle touches. Maybe then the situation would be different. It wouldn’t be days after he tried to set up a murder  _(tried? he succeeded!)_  It could have been days after you knocked on his door to talk. Days after finding out how easily he lets strangers too close.

And that he likes having his head in your hands. He finds them warm and comforting. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, you suppose.

It’s the small details that give weakness away. Details that scream at you as everything else does, a constant rush of information in a pulsing skull. When one’s easier to read, it only gets worse. And oh, is Komaeda easy to read.

The vague sense of discomfort was there from the start. The friendly child following after Hinata even before you knew who either of them were, keeping close and giving everything about himself away as he introduced himself.

**He reeks of sickness from his personality to his appearance, he reeks of destruction and death and bizarre innocence. Veins, you see veins, those are veins popping on his knuckles, trailing into a parka that must have been the smallest in stock yet still blanketing him like snow in a ditch.**

_Real smiles and breathy voice that almost seems to crack out “It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m Nagito–” Too cheery but too real. He’s not a liar; he doesn’t hide on accident._

_And his hair looks so soft and like nobody’s ever touched it not even him._

_You want to touch it._

**When he’s gasping out laughs in a checkered room, surrounded by fear and loss, you want to grab it.**

Komaeda’s voice, low and timid, breaks the air with a gasp. You let go of hair you didn’t mean to tug. “Sorry.”

“That’s alright,” he just chuckles. He curls his body the other way, so hes curved towards you, face resting against your stomach. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Unless you’d like to stop. You’re getting covered in my disgusting hair and I’d rather not ruin your clothes.”

He doesn’t want to stop. Faded eyes look at your hand resting on his shoulder, waiting to resume or leave.

It’s the small details that give weakness away, the things that make a lively wreck into a calm puddle. Calm puddles that don’t rile up a dozen classmates hanging on the edge of a line. Calm puddles that follow you around tropical islands and quiet stores, hanging on your every motion, asking what you’ll remember from here in this moment. 

_“You’re Ultimate Memory, eh? That’s too bad. You’ll have to remember every revolting thing about me…but at least I could live on in your memories if something were to happen to me!”_

“Do you want to try something different?”

It’s a small burden, keeping an eye on Komaeda, but you don’t mind.

“Like what?”

Hinata checks on you both every chance he gets. Komaeda just tries to be with you every chance  _he_ gets. And that brings a smile to the first boy’s face, because you’re both happy. So he’s happy. Komaeda’s happy. The others are happy. Things are happy.

“Something…more intimate maybe.”

As long as you pretend four people aren’t deceased.

Your assignment stares up from your lap, not indicating if he catches what you mean. You doubt he doesn’t. He’s not as naive as he likes to let on.

Not on his side but his back now, Komaeda continues gazing. Staring waiting to see what you want to do. Of course he’s not going to make any moves. He wouldn’t dare, even if you, truly wouldn’t mind.

A smile rolls up. “If you wish to let such purity get dirtied by the likes of me, go for it.”

You don’t argue against his self-contempt anymore. It’s an empty building that he’s too busy wrecking to give you entrance. There’s not really time to get in, anyways, not when you can just move on and treat him right in your ways.

“If you would be….fine with that?” you ask. Your hand touches his stomach, shirt crinkling around it. A brief moment shows a nervous look on his otherwise collected face. It means he knows he can say no but he’s just considered against it.

You hope it’s a personal decision. Not one made to further someone else’s joy. Especially not yours. He puts up negatives if he doesn’t want something though. Even in the presence of  _“hope and talent and wonder that could kill that could do anything it wants.”_

You, so far, haven’t seen any.

The shirt beneath your hand is moved up, thin fingers with those eerie blue veins bringing the fabric away.

Despite all the times spent combing his hair or with your arms around him in silence, you’d never truly seen what he hides beneath baggy clothes.

You already knew he’d shine in the dark, by the moon seeping through the window. Had to be as pale as he looked, had to have his hip bones arch from their enclosures with the thinness he carried.

Held by his chest and Komaeda gives a giggle. “I’d be honored.”

The way his smile stays makes you feel suddenly shy. You suggested this, though, so you better just push past the jitters he stirs in his eagerness. You also push past his jeans. Slowly and carefully. Waiting for any negatives but he just stares at your just-as-staring eyes and awaits your plans.

As if you have any plans. You just want to make him happy. Do you need plans for that?

Indirectly, you feel him, plaid boxers cupping into your palm.

“Sorry,” comes another giggle. “I really should be more delighted – trust me, I am! It makes it harder for you, I’m sure. I really am sorry.”

The light shade that hits his cheeks gives him away. The nerves are there. He’s playing cool best he can, though. If you weren’t the one left to overanalyze every last detail, you’re sure he would have never been found out.

It’s amusing. You’re amused.

A chuckle returning one of his startles him. You can tell from the way his hands tighten on his shirt. “Maybe there’s other things we can make harder then.”

Komaeda finally breaks eye contact with you, the pink getting pinker.

It gets worse as you move your hand.

Komaeda’s smile doesn’t waver. Somehow. Unbreaking even as you notice his throat swallow, eyebrows twitching and also his hips vaguely. Involuntarily as he refuses to look at your face.

If you were more daring, you’d make it mandatory, seeing his eyes touch your face so he can’t hide any motion and expression. He knows your talent too intensely, as he does everyone else’s. If he even glances the wrong way, the entire act has to be dropped.

You’re not daring though. And you’re not so cruel to force him to do that. Besides, you have more important matters to take care of. The gradually stiffening object tucked into his underwear, for example.

His breath wavers as you kiss his forehead. A gentle gesture for how less-than-gently you’re dipping into his boxers to wrap around him at long last. Then his breath doesn’t just waver, it seems to hiccup.

“Your…hands are warm,” he jokes. “And–” A soft moan, a rough stroke, cuts him off. It’s almost disappointing. You’re at a loss of words. His filling the silence makes your body flutter less, gives you something to respond off of so this all is far less fluttersome.

You can try your best. “You’re…very warm yourself.”

“Am I?” It’s a bit too quick. His forehead wrinkles beneath your face still on it. The sounds he makes say he has more in his voice box but it’s too busy churning out other noises. Quiet noises that fall in time with each pull of your fist around a nicely thickened mess.

So you kiss it again. “You are.” Your lips move lower. His blushing cheek. “You’re always so cold. I hope this helps.” The way your mouth moves brushes the corner of his.

Komaeda jerks his lips away. Though calling it a jerk would be a stretch. But the quick motion, the turn away, you know it’s sending the same signal.

If he doesn’t want to be kissed, then you won’t kiss him.

Easy.

It was a mistake to think about pulling such a move anyways. You’re simply the person who cuddles him as he sleeps, plays with his hair so he doesn’t add a voice of despair to the island. Sure your hand’s bringing moans from the boy, tugging out gasps as your hand feels slick against precome, but a kiss?

“Tighter.”

A kiss is too far.

“Please?”

Too far his legs spread, jeans tightening over your hand but it won’t deter you. Not with the way Komaeda’s head tilts back, eyes shut for a silent moan. Breathing quickening besides it. The same hair you love to hold falls around his face, framing it in a strange fade of pink. Brushing it aside makes him tilt into you, mouth pushed into your palm as he groans.

He looks so beautiful. Like a boy next door or a close friend sharing a sweet moment with you, the person he loves and trusts. As if you grew up together. Confessed passions and laid in bed all for this innocence and beauty.

As if the boy coming undone in your lap didn’t horrify you more than anyone else, make you afraid one of your late night visits will wake you with a knife in your gut as he wedges it deeper and deeper until you’re seeing nothing but stars and his wild eyes.

Everyone finds you so useful, after all, what with your memory.

Wouldn’t it be just a shame if they lost that?

Wouldn’t it bring out their hope more? To have to work harder to find out _he_ killed  _you_ in a fit of desire? Hinata’d lose both his helpers in one night. And everyone would grow even closer after. The Ultimates would get the hope they deserved.

Your name breaks from his lips alongside loud noises. Loud enough if anyone were awake Komaeda would be their background music.

You remember how he laughed as Teruteru was taken off. As Pekoyama was found out. Raving that this was all for the betterment of you, the most talented people in the world. It had made you regret petting his hair as he laid tied up besides half-eaten toast, holding his shivering body the night before the last class trial, treating him with intimacy in hopes you could make the suffering suffer less.

_Four people are dead._

“Don’t….stop, I’m a-ah-almost…”

_Four people you ate breakfast with, shared laughs with, walked in the fucking sunshine with._

His hips jerk up and you let go.

A startled gasp sounds, his eyes wide in your lap. Lips spread to let out harsh breaths that only seem to get harsher as your mind focuses on them and the way his whole body shakes without you touching it.

His cock twitches under his boxers.

“N-No—No, why…why did–”

“Get off me.”

Bewildered eyes look at you. Almost confused.

Did you stutter? Did you whisper? Were you silenced? You repeat yourself, possibly too harshly. “Get off me, Komaeda.”

The boy weakly sits up and you feel guilty for sounding so rude now, looking over how badly his entire body is quivering. But it’s something he’ll get over. It won’t hurt him to feel this ache.

And you  _want_ him to feel how it aches.

You gesture at him to lay down with you, a gesture that pulls another confused look. But this time he doesn’t wait for you to ask again. He just tucks down next to you.

Komaeda shudders against your body. A faint whine coming from his lips. No more questions, however, no motions to find out what just happened and why he has to feel this way.

“Don’t touch it,” you mutter before closing out any other surroundings. Especially of his, the last of which is a very choked “O-Okay” before the silence of the cottage.

The guilt is busy being overwhelmed by shame, collecting in your hand now clenching at a pillow. It feels like you just betrayed every thought of the classmates that went right before your eyes. To sit in Komaeda’s cottage and touch him after he planted despair and urgency. To replace the desire that killed them with the desire you saw in each way his body had been quaking.

You’re ashamed to admit you like him, that you can tolerate him despite it all. You understand he’s just as terrified as the rest of you, acting on whims of fancy every time they cross him in hopes this will all get better. You understand but it still makes you upset.

Komaeda’s not bad.

But even good students need to be punished sometimes.

* * *

“Bah! Get a room before I vomit! You’re in public, you know?”

Komaeda hardly stirs at Saionji’s groans of disgust, just continues nuzzling into his arms next to you. Making soft contented purrs at your hand stroking his hair. He sits close, closer than he usually sits.

As if any of this is usual. Even when he follows like a lost puppy, Komaeda still loves to wander and bother the others, to not let himself fall too deeply in specifics when all these astonishing Ultimates are around him. But this morning, he doesn’t seem to care.

It’s a bit of a relief, if you’re being honest.

So he doesn’t hate you, after all.

The seat next to the boy is taken by another. Hinata, who peers down to check his face. “…Is he ok?”

You give a shrug. The white-pink threads fall around your fingers. You can just see Komaeda’s closed eyes, soft face and blissful smile. “He’s just tired. I think.” He slept like a rock, only getting up when you personally shook him awake and was met with smiles and greetings.

He’s not remotely tired. If he’s anything, it’s a happy man.

Hinata gently brushes hair behind Komaeda’s ear. “So he…really likes this, huh?” He lets the strands curl in his fingers for a moment, letting go slowly.

“Yep.”

“Guess that’d be useful in a bad situation.” You roll your eyes at the grin on Hinata’s face. “If Komaeda gets too out of hand, we can just start petting him.”

“Well if–” You bite your tongue. Because green eyes have found your face and won’t look away. Accompanied with a…is that a smirk? It’s a smirk. Komaeda’s smirking at you. Goofily, like he’s beyond proud of one of you, but smirking nonetheless. Clearing your throat, you finish before he can startle you again. “If push comes to shove.”

“Just be sure to let Gundam know first. He’s an expert on soothing unruly beasts.” And he leans in closer to add something else.

Your hand halts in Komaeda’s hair. With a whisper, the first boy says, “Listen…I’m really thankful you’re doing this. Not really for us but…for him, you know? He really deserves someone he can trust.”

For no reason at all, you expected worse.

Like maybe a scolding for being too loud last night or maybe a joke about it. “When I said take care of Komaeda, I didn’t mean like  **that**.”

You can breathe easy knowing either he didn’t hear or he’s too nice to tell you.

Hinata smiles at your relived sigh. He’s reading it in more innocent subtext than you could wish for.

He can’t see the look on Komaeda’s face right now, after all.

It’s a look that you see again later, after party planning and discussions, him actually speaking to your classmates finally and him ending conversations by…returning back to you. He leaves the others looking relieved, the contents of their talks something different than usual. And shorter. It draws a raised eyebrow from Hinata across the room.

He mouths something at you.

“You sure he’s alright?”

You pretend you didn’t see him. Komaeda’s too busy asking you how you are for what feels like the fifth time, nervous and fast.

It doesn’t settle well in your stomach. The attention. Nor the expression on his face as he guides you to a backroom. Which, really, should have been the main reason you felt so uneasy.

He’s not intimidating about it, of course. Not pulling you into the room or to it, not doing much more than asking, “It’s too above me to ask, but might I speak to you in private for a moment?” His smile as he closes the door doesn’t even make you uncomfortable. Yet you still are.

He smiles far too much, you’re beginning to realize.

“I’ll just be blunt, if that’s alright?”

Another thing…is how large he looks in his jacket today, how tall he looks in general, towering above you in a way that feels so uncharacteristic to the submissive ways he acts around you. Even leaning against the door, he’s too tall. Too lanky and too far away he’s so…far away from you.

Wait, did he ask you something?

“Uh…sure. What is it?”

“Well,” he chuckles, not missing a beat. His hand scratches the back of his neck. “It’s not my place to ask, I know, but is there…any way to maybe…” The same hand comes out, gesturing in the air in ways you really don’t have the capacity to understand. “..Get a conclusion. To last night?”

An “Oh” almost leaves you. Almost immediately does it want out. Even though you damn well knew what he was going to ask.

It does come out after he keeps talking– _why is he still talking?_

“I didn’t touch it like you told me to,” Komaeda continues. It brings heat to your cheeks to hear. Maybe you should be delighted he listened to you. Maybe you should leave this room right now before this goes in the direction he’s not even pretending it’s not going in. “I really don’t deserve it but…I wanted to ask your permission.”

“My…p-permission?” you stutter. Great now you’re stuttering and he’s not even blushing. Like you’re just discussing the weather or what crazy thing Souda did over lunch yesterday.

It’s hilarious. If you bite back the feelings it stirs. That you indeed did do things with Komaeda you should never have tried. That it wasn’t just a crazy dream and you could only be ashamed for holding him as he slept.

It’s too dark to consider right now. This situation is straight from a comedy – you can’t make it dark. You won’t make it dark.

“Your permission… _to_ touch it.”

“To…” You should laugh off the butterflies and bad thoughts. “…A-Are you asking me….my permission to… _t-to get off_?”

Finally Komaeda blushes. Oh, really? Is that what makes him embarrassed? “You were so serious, you know? I wouldn’t dare go against the wishes of someone willing to let a worm like me feel pleasure! Especially pleasure from such beautiful hands!”

“LOWER YOUR–” You gulp back the practical scream erupting from your mouth. “Lower your voice and–I thought…oh my  _GOD_ –you were going to ask if I–”

“If you what?” He tilts his head and it’s so stupidly cute. “…What? Ask if…like if you could?”

“I guess this isn’t any better,” you laugh nervously. Holding your head in your hands, you try to calm down. Komaeda’s hardly breaking a sweat talking about this, so you have no room to get so flustered.

“Why would you suggest–”

“I shouldn’t have. Sorry, I really shouldn’t have.”

“I mean, unless you want to. In which case, you certainly may.” Adjusting against the door, hands going into his pockets so the chain on his jeans clicks. Parka pulled back behind his wrists. You hope he’s not purposefully trying to give you a  _view_. “You already lowered yourself too far before, though! It’d be a shame for you to do it again – but for someone like me, I’d certainly be thankful.”

_A click, a smile, a rush of heat on your face, his jeans are right there in your face practically you can count the centimeters in the air and the thumps per minute of your heart and_

“Do you need…help  _right now_?” Mind rushes with weird guilt of all flavors. Guilt that you would keep trying this but guilt that you cut him off so suddenly last night and guilt that you were in the situation to cut him off.

Maybe it’s better to focus on the present. The tall smile that says, “Maybe. But I can handle it myself–with your permission.” The tall smile that oddly jumps as you step closer.

“Right now, really?” Of course you don’t hesitate to confirm. A mouth opens silently, very eagerly. Softest of murmurs.

He speaks next when you begin undoing his zipper in delighted tones. “Forgive me I–I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I tainted the memory of it but–” For once there’s silence as he’s dragged out. A view you didn’t see before that’s vividly red, vividly leaking like it’s been waiting for centuries.

His goofy glances at breakfast seem less goofy now. More like a stab in your gut in the most wonderful of ways.  _Yikes_.

You’re flattered.

Needy sounds in your ear are quick to begin very softly, very quiet even in the empty room. It’s not just flattering, it’s something to be grateful for. Komaeda’s not an idiot. Shameless, oh very shameless. But no idiot. He’s not in the business of letting you be caught.

These responses are cuter, anyways. Broken by a caught exhale with the jerks of your hand. You keep watch on it, your hand in the dim light moving slick and faster slowly.

Komaeda’s pale fingers are spread on his stomach and holding and clenching, digging and pulling his shirt so you can see how his muscles tighten. Watch the trail of raspberry that crawls down from his belly button to your fist.

Certainly watch how his knees are starting to tremble. A foot lifts against the door, pressing into the metal enough to tell you how much longer this display has left in it.

He gasps at the same time you hear footsteps. Both are just as vibrating in your ears and very quickly he reassures you. “I can be q-quiet….I promise.”

Even as he bites his lip to confirm,  _ **yes! yes I can keep this a secret! don’t stop, i’ll be fine!**_ Which doesn’t change how close someone else is in a far more frightening way. Komaeda curls off the door, the door that’s hardly any barrier between the sounds of walking, near and numbing.

You don’t want to risk it.

And…yes…yeah maybe you just want to see how much he loses it when your hand is taken away. Yet again.

His jump to his mouth, covering a choke sound so it’s but a muffled sob. He’s on the verge of collapsing with how badly he’s shaking but he pulled through last night so he can pull through again. At least until the strangers go away.

Whoever goes by doesn’t stop, not bothered by the heavy breathing slipping past Komaeda’s fingers. The position is safe and slowly, with the distant sound of steps, it’s also empty.

He doesn’t move though. He waits for you. To see what you’ll do next.

Your turn is simply putting him back away. A gesture that makes his hips jerk at how sensitive he is now and you just press on.

“I’m…going to open the door…alright?” The doorknob turns but you don’t open it. Komaeda is still leaning against it as his last stand. Not until he gives a nod, a turn, a step the side, do you exit.

The hall is empty. You’ll never know who interrupted and maybe that’s for the best. You’d never be able to look them straight in the face again.

“Hey.”

The skull and chain jingle when he pulls his jeans up, falling down skinny, shivering hips. Komaeda doesn’t answer, merely looks at you.

“You still don’t have my permission, ok?”

The shock in his face is priceless. Momentary but loved. Mouth wide to retort, eyes wide to blink in surprise. You wish he had let you kiss him last night so you could kiss him now.

But he didn’t. So you bask instead in the way the shock turns into the faintest of grins.

“Ok.”

You leave with a bizarre mix of pride, shame, and longing. (But mostly pride.)

It lingers inside you as the day progresses, as the days progress. Not many but with the way they wrap around you, you could have been fooled.

Your daily chats with Hinata feel like stressful happenings. Ones best left ignoring but it’s impossible to ignore a guy who won’t leave you or anyone else alone for five damn minutes. Your reluctant leader loves to catch your attention. Discuss how things are doing on both fronts, yours and his. Komaeda’s. He’s really delighted you’re doing fine. That Komaeda’s doing fine.

The luckster in question is certainly having a fine time.

You didn’t mean to set him up. It wasn’t your intentions. Honestly! The first few times were simply unlucky chances that you could so easily blame on his aura, that it’s his fault for choosing terrible times to need you _(like the middle of the night? alone? nobody to bother you? the middle of a storage room in silence and near-emptiness?)_  His luck would have gotten you caught because what a loving sensation it had to be for him, something so vivid and bursting he wouldn’t be allowed it.

You weren’t setting him up. You didn’t mean to keep denying him.

He set himself up by loving it.

More than the cuddles as he rests, tucked into your back, your chest, snuggled tight because Komaeda grabs and never lets go. Or the petting, the togetherness it provides. Komaeda truly loves this more. Shock and sudden arousal coating green eyes with a touch on his thigh. A lack of release as he squirms in your heavy palm, keeping quiet in the dining hall under fake smiles and not so fake breathy sighs that smack your ears even when you abandon him. Refusing to finish what you started. Gaining a bright pink face tucked into arms, pretending he just loves how you start stroking his hair as Sonia asks if everything’s alright.

“He’s just tired.”

“He’s been tired a lot lately,” you think you hear Hinata say.

A beg for  ** _please maybe this time! even trash like me deserve that much right? it’s not my call though, oh it’s not my call, I’m so sorry!_** as he sits in your lap and sobs at the violent burden coursing over his body. Making his cottage feel like a temple of secrets with each sound of your name as the heat begins pooling over. Just for you to make him relax and breathe, not to scream like he nearly keeps doing, just to suck down on your fingers because his are too busy about to tear the bed sheets into pieces. Then you repeat.

He set himself up for deserving it.

You put up with the soft hours and innocent faces tucked into your skin, eyelids closing at the beat of your heart. An uneasy, unintentional facade. Sometimes having to hear his ravings in bed, hovering over you and trying to have a conversation that’s too one-sided, too much for you to reply to as your body freezes in place under him. Sometimes having to grab his hair in public as someone looks meek and on tears. Tsumiki, Souda, Saionji. Anyone because the moment your hand starts combing through it, Komaeda’s head tilts, his voice stops, and he switches into obedience.

You put up with so much for a boy who scares you, who horrifies you, who makes you feel on the edge of a cliff when he knocks on your cottage door every night you don’t visit his.

But that’s too cruel. You enjoy your time together! Having him trust you was so difficult but reaching that point is so remarkable. He shoved you away so much but finally let you in! And you’re rewarded with his company and the few gentle conversations he will have with you, to discuss your memories and exceptional talent, to talk about him in vague details.

He’s not bad. And that’s why he gets punished so nicely. He’d not keep knocking to sleep with you if it weren’t.

* * *

And that’s what makes his sickness all the more nerve-wrecking.

He contracts the Despair Fever hovering around your classmates and in that moment all fear you felt for him murdering you in your sleep, forcing himself inside of your stomach, your heart, your lungs, it all melts into an embarrassed frenzy as he raves like a fool.

He’s filled with lies that won’t stop. Some that startle you if you try to speak to him, because hearing Komaeda call you, “scum of the earth, aren’t you? I wish you didn’t remember so much – I’m disgusted to race through your mind! I’m even more  _revolted_ that you’re trying to run through mine!” Hearing, “I never want your hands near me again! Oh, I could throw up at the thought of you touching me so intimately! Aren’t you ashamed?!”

Hearing his laughs as he tells you he hates you is upsetting. For silly reasons like being afraid someone will figure out what he’s implying with each awful thing he says – that Tsumiki will shake as she walks past his bed and stare at you in anger because she hears everything he raves about she knows so much she’d be so angry. Angry that  _you really did that to him? that’s just awful and cruel and disrespectful to those he helped fall._

It’s cruel to think of her that way but your mind doesn’t care. It’s another thing to feel guilty about later.

For serious reasons like your stomach dropping in a heavy pit when he’s bedridden and still able to shove you away with harsh words dipped in giggles and ludicrous smiles. And how you can’t do anything to help him for once. If you stroke his hair, he slaps your hand away. “Disgusting! Why would you do that?!” Rolls over on his bed laughing into his pillow. A truly hilarious joke, Komaeda! Making you sit there and feel your heart wavering!

He’s so funny to make you feel so useless! Useless for not being able to help a scummy good-for-nothing! Someone who nearly gets into a physical fight with Hinata when he checks up on him and briefly, just briefly, makes his eyes close with fingers in hair before knuckles are on a jawline and Komaeda’s above him, losing his mind all over the place. Startling Tsumiki. Startling you by the door.

You just want to help him. For his sake, for the others, for yours.

You need to be useful.

For one night, there’s no doting nurse, no worried leader, nothing but you sliding the door open and tiptoeing towards his bed. The boy holds such sickness, such death with him on a good day. On a bad day, night, tonight in this hospital, it cascades from him in rotten shivers.

Komaeda melts into his bed, pale and worrisome. You’re almost turned off by it. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to try this –  _he’s too ill, it’ll just make things worse. But isn’t that the point? Now’s the best time to push his limits! It always helped before! He’s been so good lately, he deserves it!_

**When will you get this chance again?!**

So you wake him. “Komaeda… _Komaeda_ , hey.”

He groans under your hand, gently shaking his shoulder. The grey in his eyes seems to disappear under a sickly bright green. He looks right at you with it and a gaze of disgust. “I can’t stop dreaming about you so you’ve got to bother me now as well? Just my luck.” Lips tug into a drooling grin. “Something really great better happen later for something so  _awful_ to happen now.”

It’s so hard to tell how to proceed. He’s a lying fluster of a mess after all, difficult yet beckoning. You’re scared to read him wrong and overstep your boundaries.

But you’re Ultimate Memory.

You know Komaeda’s body language like the waves know the winds. He can’t hide from you behind innocent smiles and self-loathing gestures so he won’t be well-draped beneath his fever and drowsy eyes.

He giggles. “You just staring at me is even worse! I’d rather hear your ugly voice at this rate!”

“I just wanted to give you a gift,” you start finally, stumbling on your words. Hand touching the bed. It’s close to Komaeda’s and…you expect him to jerk it away and fake a choke of disgust. But he doesn’t. It remains.

“Why would I possibly want a gift from  _you_?” It moves closer as he insults you until it’s on top of yours. Hotter than you remember. He finally has body warmth, huh?

“Because it’s…something you’ve wanted for a while.”

“You leaving me alone is all I want right now.” Warmth tangles with your fingers, his nails awkwardly scraping against your knuckles. A weak attempt to hold your hand and tug you closer. “So why don’t you just go?” He grins wildly.

“Not until you get your gift.”

“But I don’t want it!” He squirms when your hand leaves his. Moving up his thigh beneath the thin hospital sheets. Small, choked laughs escape him. “This better not be what I think it is! That’s so nasty!” As his legs already begin to spread.

He’s not carrying the subtleties he does off his fever. Which is a relief for you. Reading into everything, anything he vaguely does would ruin this for you. You just want to help him out as easily as possible, after all.

Laughter explodes from him when you begin, finding growing yearning when you pull back blankets and hospital gown. The only other people in the building are other victims. They won’t hear him going wild. Or if they do, you’re positive they’ll be too sick to remember.

“What a la-lame gift!” Hips jerk up to meet your hand. Your tugs pull out delighted groans that rival anything from any night with them before. Speakers blasting in your ear. Drums thumping in your head. Giggles and more loud melodies with each stroke, each way nails drag along his length and fingers press into a weeping tip. “You’re so terrible at this! Why bother?”

“If I’m so terrible, should I try something else?”

“Yeah! Like finishing the job and leaving!”

You ignore his suggestion. He could have asked for exactly what you had in mind and you would have pretended he didn’t speak. Not that he would directly. All he wants to do is shove you with vivid words.

Settling your hand at the base of your masterpiece, you tuck hair behind your ear. Komaeda scofs and groans childishly, like a kid stuck in a car trip just wanting it to be oveeeeeerrrrr because this is sooooo boring. He even brings out a pout to fit such bratty behavior. Pouting as you bring your lips to his cock.

“D-Didn’t you hear me?! Stop touching me! You’re too gro–”

A genuine gasp. Komaeda breathing silently into the air instead of scolding you is more enjoyable, calms your jumpy heart as more and more of him fills your mouth so deep it tickles your throat and then you pull right off, pop right off to the sound of needy whines.

“Don’t–Don’t do that again.” He’s drooling worse from a lopsided smile. “I _hate_ how it feels–you’re so…” Breathing hitches. He draws back into the warm embrace of your tongue trailing saliva up. “D-disgusting!”

He giggles and the barest of nervous shines through it. In braver moments, you could call it progress, that the fever is disappearing. Now, though, in this room filling with him and all of him, it’s just human nature. Giggles as your lips slide over, around, down. Hand a slow stroke at the base.

“I’m…gonna vomit at this rate. That’s what you want isn’t it? Only…someone as pathetic as you would want tha–AH!” Shaky, burning hands grasp your hair like a lifeline. Your scalp burns with the strength of them but not enough to stop your work. It’s almost soothing when doubled with his screams echoing off the walls in arousing falls.

These echoes, these cries of pleasure come from a place of reality, truths.

“Ha–I hope you fucking choke,” he chuckles. Hands in your hair amplify his wishes, pushing you down. “It’ll teach you to spring this sort of filth on me, huh?” The smirk tugging his lips dies as you bite. Soft, not rough, dragging your teeth up. You go to pop off, to tease him but he doesn’t allow it. You’re shoved back down, a weak motion that you let him pull easily. You don’t mind.

“No–nononono!” Teeth click together. A tight bond that nonetheless can’t hold back his moans. “How…H-how dare you d-do…” The fingers holding you down, forcing you to bob, move. Grabbing his bright face smothered in blushes. “….How dare you do this t-to me–” Komaeda’s breathing catches, ready for you when you pull off and leave nothing but your fist clamped still. Clamped and holding him in place.

His nose wrinkles with your forehead against his. Your hair falling against his face, curling with the white framing his face on the pillow behind it. “…A-awful, you’re an awful…terrible human being–I h-hate you…” Hot breath on your face, against your lips as he growls halfheartedly. “You’re not e-even….worth spitting on.”

It’s rough having to remind yourself he doesn’t mean it. Faintly you believe you deserve it. Good, hopeful human beings wouldn’t be in your current situation. Certainly not letting their fist travel up, tight and controlling such a twitching device. Almost enjoying how it draws a whispy moan when thumb presses a sensitive tip.

“I should just leave then shouldn’t I?”

“You should!” Louder than expected. “I don’t–” Komaeda bites back his words. Vivid eyes glaring at your hand on his cock. Breathes out and–

“What don’t you want?” You interrupt him before he can consider responding, dragging back down. Holding it there with a firm grip that won’t allow anything to move, anything to end.

“I-I–”

“I’ll stay right here by you, Komaeda.”

A small squeak leaves.

“I can go if you tell me what I need to not do.”

Teeth clench. There’s panic in his wild eyes now, panic and haze from hanging so far off the edge and  _always_ hanging so far off the edge because you never let the edge find itself and you never gave him  _permission_ to take care of matters himself and now he’s still stuck and forced to choke up his words he’d already swallowed.

“I feel terrible just like you want–pathetic just like  _you_.” 

A quick breath and he’s speaking so fast out at you, laughing out his words in tones that really are pathetic and whiny. 

“I hate being like you and being around you and you  _touching_ me and **wanting you to touch me** , you d-damn–You’re terrible why would I ever want someone like you to touch me o-or–or m-make me come-! I don’t want to…to come–the most  _disgusting_ thing you could possibly do to me but you’ll get filthy like you deserve. You’re so filthy…you make me so sick…” 

It’s hard to take it all in when he stammers and yells so suddenly, ends so suddenly by yanking your hair once more. Pressing his lips roughly into yours as his arms go tight around your shoulders.

Your nose smashes painfully into his but it’s an afterthought now. Komaeda savors you hungrily. Whispers of insults and loathing pierce your lips. Your ears. Your heart. Tongue digging at your teeth like the hurt in your hair with each bundle ripping.

He says your name with venom. Burning his throat alongside “I hate you I hate you I hate you and I never want to see you again and  **I never want you to make me come and I never want you to touch me again not my hair not my face not my cock not my–”**

It’s over the moment your hand leaves to grasp his cheek. Keeping him in place against your lips with a final moan. Hovering over gives the sensations away. The way the cheap hospital bed creaks from his hips jerking, the way you can feel them jerking. The way he pulls your shirt up he tugs at you so hard as he gets what he wanted.

The way he whispers against your kiss again; “You should be ashamed.”

And the way a laugh falls over the intercom, familiar and terrifying yet hardly stirring you from how Komaeda kisses you softly. Gently and loving. Still saying he wants you to go away as he rubs his hands on your face.

It’s nothing important anyways. Just a distant ringing.

A distant laugh…

“I want to throw you out a window.” Just a kiss lasting on your lips. “I want to put a bag over your ugly face.”

**“Well you bastards, looks like a body’s been discovered!”**

“I want to never ever see you again.”

What’s important is Komaeda. For your sake, his sake, and the others.


End file.
